


Better Than Ice Cream

by Foophile



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, M/M, finger fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 12:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foophile/pseuds/Foophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael sighed, looked out at the lush foliage surrounding the road and the heat waves rippling off of the dirt under their feet. It was undeniably hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Prison Break and its related characters do not belong to me.

_My advice to you is not to inquire why or whither, but just enjoy your ice cream while it's on your plate. That's my philosophy._ ~Thornton Wilder

 _Without ice cream, there would be darkness and chaos._ ~Don Kardong

  
Michael saw the line for ice cream well before he saw the tiny serving stand along the side of the road. Mothers with sweaty screaming children, old women and men waiting for some refreshment during their afternoon stroll; The line was long and varied. The brothers had been walking for almost half an hour in the hot sun since they docked in Panama.

Lincoln’s narrow gaze focused on the stand as if he’d spotted Westmoreland’s money bags. His gait quickened and Michael practically jogged to catch up.

“No, Linc. We don’t have time. We have to get into town before the stores close.”

“Three years, Michael.” Lincoln said over his shoulder.

Michael frowned. “What?”

“It’s been three years since I’ve had ice cream and its ninety degrees out here.” Lincoln stopped behind the wheelchair of an elderly man, smiling congenially at the Panamanian.

Michael sighed, looked out at the lush foliage surrounding the road and the heat waves rippling off of the dirt under their feet. It was undeniably hot. Even more so since Michael insisted on covering his distinctive tattoos with a zipped hoodie over two t-shirts.

Sweat dripped down his neck and stuck the three layers closer to his skin, only making him sweat more. Lincoln, in a simple black henley, was flushed with heat. The cloth darker at the armpits and down the hollow of his back.

“Alright, but I don’t think this is a good idea.” Michael eyed a car that slowly passed by the line. He sighed, reached back to pull up his hood, and caught Lincoln staring at him dubiously. “What?”

His brother shook his head, hiding the flash of a smile behind his hand.

“You’re worried about the cops spotting us, so in this weather, you put on a hood? Its bad enough you have on more layers than possibly anyone in the country. The hood will certainly keep us from looking suspicious.”

Michael glared at Lincoln. “You’re hilarious. The line’s moving.” He nodded in front of them where the crowd was advancing at an impressive pace. Michael could just see the two vendors serving ice cream, two men, seemingly a father and son.

Lincoln heaved a tired sigh. “Look, I get that life is shit right now, but we’re here Michael. We made it to Panama. Doesn’t that make you a little content?”

A surge of anger took Michael by surprise and he had to look away before he screamed. Yes, the plan worked, despite the delays, but so many had been hurt in the process that he wondered if he could ever be redeemed.

Sara allowed herself to be arrested so that he and Lincoln could escape Chicago. It would take more than a miracle to clear her and the thought of Sara experiencing anything like he had in jail made his stomach roll. Sara’s fate made him question if everything was even worth it.

Then, Michael glanced over at Lincoln and knew that he could never regret the decision to break his brother out. Lincoln’s skin was already tanned with two weeks of freedom; his shoulders no longer slumped with living in a seven by twelve foot cell everyday. It was more than obvious that he missed LJ, they both did, but being in Panama did put them one step closer to reuniting for good.

“What flavor do you want Mike?” Lincoln’s soft question knocked Michael out of his thoughts and back into the wet heat of road. They were only a handful of people away from the ice cream, which was looking like a better idea the more they stood there.

“I don’t care, Linc. Whatever they have.”

“I remember when you were little, you used to love chocolate chip cookie dough. LJ did too.”

Lincoln was watching Michael when he looked up again. His older brother’s eyes were almost vacant, perhaps imagining times that were long gone. Michael couldn’t stay angry.

“What’s your favorite?”

Lincoln blinked. “Mine?” He said as if he’d never been asked before, which was a sad possibility. “It don’t think I’ve ever had one. Vanilla, I guess.”

“Huh.” Michael hadn’t expected that.

Lincoln frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.” Michael gave him an innocent grin.

Lincoln remained quiet until they finally reached the hooded comfort of the umbrella stand. Michael helped him order in piece meal Spanish, vanilla for Linc and chocolate for himself, and they walked away with two large scoops each balanced precariously on tiny kiddy cones.

The ice cream was soft to begin with, housed in a metal case of melting ice for hours on end, but direct exposure to the light had the confection dripping down their fists moments after they paid. Lincoln deemed it necessary to try to wolf down his cone as quickly as possible and Michael found himself unconsciously attempting to catch up.

“Hmm, this isn’t bad.” Lincoln garbled around a mouthful. A droplet of vanilla slipped from his lips to his chin.

Michael stared, shocked with sudden arousal, almost tripping over his feet. Those moments had been plaguing him since they’d broke out of Fox River, sometimes even before when he would see his brother standing fenced off in the yard.

Lincoln had stopped next to him, still licking the cone and oblivious. “Hey, wanna taste?” He held the cone up, vanilla sticky all down his hand and fingers. Michael’s mouth watered and his resolve vanished.

He remembered those hands, those fingers, all over his body. Making him want things he shouldn’t and think things he’d put aside for years. Michael’s hand moved of its own volition, wrapped around Lincoln’s wrist and pulled him closer. “Yeah, I kinda do.”

“Michael?” Lincoln’s voice was soft, almost choked. His eyes went wide when Michael’s mouth attached to the inside of his wrist and sucked up the sensitive skin to the fleshy base of his thumb.

His mouth filled with the taste of sugary ice cream, sweaty skin, and, deep down in it all, Lincoln. Michael closed his eyes in pleasure. Licking around the cone, he toyed with the blunt tip of Lincoln’s thumb, sucking on the nail until his brother lifted it enough for Michael to take the entire digit into his mouth.

“Jesus, Michael.” Lincoln’s head fell forward and he visibly shuddered.

A car passed by them on the road and Michael couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Nothing mattered but the taste, the smell of his brother all around him. The rough knuckle along the length, the ridges on the pad – Lincoln’s thumb invigorated all of his senses. Michael couldn’t think and he didn’t want to.

Then, Lincoln dropped the ice cream cone. Michael blinked back to himself and started to pull away when Lincoln’s other hand wrapped around the back of his neck, keeping him close. Keeping his thumb in Michael’s mouth.

“Don’t. I just wanna see you-.” Lincoln broke off with a groan as Michael lifted off only to suck on his creamy index and middle fingers. By the time Michael wrapped his tongue around Lincoln’s pinky finger, his brother was shaking, his eyes dark with lust.

Michael’s own cone was a gooey mess and he dropped it to the ground as he pulled away from his brother’s reach and licked the remnants from the back of his own hand. The taste of Lincoln and himself mixed and Michael couldn’t hold in the tiny moan.

Lincoln’s moan emulated his own and with a rough tug to Michael’s arm, he hauled him into a kiss. It edged on violent, Lincoln sucking on Michael’s lips, eating at his mouth, and making Michael weak in the knees.

Chocolate and vanilla mixed on their tongues, every taste as scorching as the sun pouring down on them. Michael was delirious with pent up desire, need drove him closer to his brother, he barely kept from clinging to Lincoln’s broad shoulders.

Michael felt like he was learning how to breathe but the second Lincoln’s hands touched his face, Michael nearly choked on the resurgence of reality.

Lincoln panted for breath. “What’s wrong?”

Michael licked his lips and just stopped himself from wiping Lincoln’s taste away. The road was getting busier, more people slowing down to watch the two men on the side of the road, and Michael glanced down once at the melted cones at his feet before he walked away.

He heard Lincoln scramble to catch up. “Wait! Michael what-.” Lincoln didn’t finish his question. Michael looked over his shoulder to catch the older man cover his eyes for just a moment, then Lincoln took a deep breath, fixed him with a blank look, and walked on ahead.

Michael felt familiar guilt creep up his neck once more; more pain that he couldn’t redeem. As he caught up to his brother’s hurried gait, he flexed his sticky fingers and licked his lips.

Chocolate and vanilla.


End file.
